Struck Twice
by Rae TB
Summary: Father was like thunder. Brooklyn was like lightning. Together, they would make a storm. Brooklyn centric fic about his childhood years and the difficulties of growing up. Contains spousal and child abuse.


This was actually originally meant to be posted on Adiva Amaya's birthday…Which was in August. On the 20th. As in not the 7th of September. Anyway, this is still a late present for her. I never thought I would ever do another present fic again but I also never thought I would be blessed with someone as amazing as her in my life.

And you know that phrase means something when I'm praising somebody without wanting a favor out of them.

Also, quick shout out to Meg for being so patient with me and being the one most tortured by how long this took to finish.

Now onto the subject matter…This deals with Brooklyn's childhood and contains spousal and child abuse. Why? Because nothing says: "Happy birthday Kairia, I ADORE you!" quite like a mother and son getting hit in the face by their husband and father.

…Evidently, I had some very messed up birthdays.

At any rate, there's only one scene where a beating is even described at all. Otherwise, it's just implied or mentioned.

This is a deceptive story. It's somewhat stream of consciousnessy and told in third person limited past tense. And by limited I mean pretty limited – the narrator is very close to Brooklyn's perspective. It's borderline first person, really. Because Brooklyn is a child in this piece, a lot of it is told in a childlike manner. The narration matures as Brooklyn does too but it's never super fancy. The phrases are clipped and short, and the language is pretty basic for the most part. That's where the tricky bit comes in - since it's told in such a simplistic way, it seems like an easy read.

If you aren't interested in symbolism, image clusters, or common threads intricately linked throughout a story, it is. However, if you want to understand all those things in this story….You're kind of sort of totally screwed.

Literary analysis freaks, prepare to eat your hearts out. Or be horrified by the amount of crazy stuff for you to look into within this story. Whichever you prefer.

I put a lot of work into this. A whole heck of a lot. But this is one of those love it or despise it intensely fics. Keep that in mind before you dive in. There's a chance this just isn't for you.

**NOTE: After writing this fic and going through the seemingly endless editing process, I now realize that I am in need of a beta. If you are interested in the position, feel free to either private message me, review stating your interest, or send an email. Thanks in advance!**

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Lightning never struck twice.

Mommy had told him so.

"I want it back."

Brooklyn wailed as the final streaks of light disappeared. His feet stomped impatiently on the ground. His fists shook in the night's chill air.

"You can't control it sweetie, no one can."

Mommy said lightning had an agenda all its own. Mommy had been right. Mommy was always right. The lightning refused to return to him. No pleas, bribes, or threats would work. Storms listened to no one. Lightning wouldn't change its schedule just for him.

Lightning wasn't being fair. Brooklyn scrunched his face up. Life was supposed to be fair. Mommy had always made it that way.

"Want it come again."

Tears blurred his vision. His lower lip jutted out and trembled. Brooklyn shut his eyes. He covered his face like he was about to be in a game of tag. Brooklyn could be a big boy, and handle this on his own. He would pretend he was playing now. He would count backward from ten and make the pain go away.

Ten. Mommy saw him. She always did. Even if lightning ignored him, Mommy never would. She rested her hand on his head and gave his hair an affectionate ruffle. He didn't like it when most people did that. Mommy was different though. It was okay if it was her. Brooklyn sniffed. His gaze slowly rose upward. Mommy's face was soft and kind.

"It'll be okay baby. It'll come back someday soon just to see you. I promise."

Nine. Mommy locked pinkies with him. Brooklyn made sure they were linked together tightly. He didn't ever want to lose her. Mommy gave him a quick kiss to his forehead. She swept his bright red locks out of his face with her gentle fingers. Brooklyn leaned into her touch longingly. He shut his eyes. In his memories, he could still see the lightning. He and his mommy would dance beneath it someday.

"Promise?"

Eight. Brooklyn smiled. The lightning was so close to him. It was so attainable now. He could grab a hold of it, and give it to Mommy. His hands stretched upward, groping blindly at the air. He would reach higher. He wouldn't stop until he could touch the sky. Mommy took his hand in hers and squeezed.

"Promise."

Seven. Brooklyn opened his eyes again. The lightning had gone away. He stopped clawing at the air. He couldn't reach his goal anymore but that was okay. He didn't need it. Brooklyn had Mommy. Mommy was all he needed.

"Mommy...We go home now?"

Six. His mommy looked down at him. She swept him into her arms, snuggling his tiny form. Mommy was warm and smelled like freshly cut flowers. Brooklyn gripped her tightly, burying his face in her neck. She had the expression of the lost puppy he had found a week ago. She looked scared.

"In a moment baby. Just…give me the chance to cherish this a while longer."

Five. Brooklyn didn't know why, but he felt scared too. He knew Daddy would never approve if he found out. Daddy had always said it was the duty of the big, strong man to command the feeble, helpless woman. Mommy disagreed though and Mommy knew more than Daddy. Brooklyn decided it was okay to be frightened sometimes.

"Mommy? Me love you."

Four. Her grip became stronger. She buried her face in his hair and started to sniffle. Brooklyn had been making those sounds earlier. But Mommy had made them go away.

"I love you too darling. So much…You have no idea how much."

Three. Could he do the same for her? He had to try. He reached up.

"'S okay. When the lightning comes again, it'll be all better."

Two. He touched her face. She started sobbing.

"Of course darling, of course."

One. Despite her saddened noises, he wasn't worried anymore.

"Mommy'll be right. Mommy always right."

Zero.

X

Lightning never struck twice.

But Daddy did.

His powerful fists sounded like thunder when they impacted with Mommy's cheek. Brooklyn liked lightning. He definitely didn't like thunder.

"Brooklyn is in the next room. We shouldn't expose him to-"

Crack. Boom. Just like a thunderstorm, but without any of the parts he liked.

Brooklyn drew his legs to his chest and trembled. He looked out the window. It was starting to rain. No real thunder had come yet. No real lightning, either. He covered his face and took deep breaths. He knew how to calm himself. It had worked before. Brooklyn was sure it would work again. He would count backwards from ten. But instead of tag, he would play hide 'n seek this time. Brooklyn felt more like hiding than running.

Ten.

"Do not ever dare to tell me what to do."

He liked the noise a downpour made. It drowned out his Mommy's sad voice and his daddy's angry one. Pitter. Patter. Splat. The sound was rhythmic and formed a beat like in the music his mommy listened to.

Nine.

"Please, for the sake of your son. Just stop."

He didn't like the way raindrops looked. He also didn't like the way they felt. After it rained, Brooklyn would arrive home wet and trailing water everywhere. Daddy would scream. Mommy would jump in front of Brooklyn. More drops would roll off his arm, his nose, his chin. They resembled Mommy's tears and they stung like shame. Daddy would hit. Mommy would cry like the clouds outside.

Eight.

"I will never care about that little freak."

What started out as a small amount of water would soon become large puddles of raindrops mixed with tears. Brooklyn loved jumping in them. He would spray the liquid everywhere and punish it for causing so much pain. The bits of water would fly through the air like the birds he and his daddy loved so much. Brooklyn wished he were a bird so he could fly away. So he could be loved by himself and Daddy.

Seven.

"You think not caring will change anything?"

The real thunder had started outside now. This was nothing like the calming sounds of the rain. It was a crash, like the ones the cars on television made. His daddy didn't really like him watching television, but Mommy always snuck him into the TV room.

Six.

"I can pretend that it does."

He decided to cheat during his countdown and take a look outside. Still no lightning. He wondered if it would come visit him like Mommy had promised. Maybe they could play hide 'n seek together. Brooklyn would be "it" this round and the lightning would go hide. Lightning probably wouldn't like that he peeked after the number "six", but they would have such a good time that it would forget. Brooklyn would be the brave adventurer and go find it. He would rescue lightning from thunder.

Five.

"Fine. Pretend all you want."

Brooklyn slowed his silent counting, daring to listen to his parents. The thunder inside the house had stopped for now. It was just talking. The words still stung like drops of rain but Mommy was much safer now. He was relieved. There was a chance she wouldn't be covered in angry yellow, purple, and black splotches. They liked to glare at him. They made Brooklyn upset.

Four.

"Your son disgusts me."

Thunder disgusted him. Raindrops that looked like tears did too. Once the storm had passed, Mommy could run to find him and they could lock the door shut. She would hold him, comfort him like she always did, and make life fair again. The disgusting things would go away when she came. Mommy was never disgusting.

Three.

"I hate you."

Brooklyn had sped up his counting again. He was so close to finishing. Then he could go play like a carefree child. Since lightning wasn't around, he would just have to find Zeus and make him have his friend appear. Brooklyn loved hearing about Zeus in the bedtime stories his mother told. He had a feeling she was leaving certain parts out. There seemed to be a lot of gaps. He was still convinced Zeus was a good God.

Two.

"I know."

He wondered if Zeus was looking down on him now. Maybe he was even feeling a little bad for Brooklyn. Perhaps he would come save him. His dad would pay like the bad guys on the TV did, and he and Mommy would fly far away on Zeus' back. They would be happy together. No more Dad. No more thunder.

One.

"Good."

Crack. Boom. Pitter. Patter. Splat.

Zero.

Brooklyn stood up numbly unable to keep from shaking. He could hear his dad's hands thundering again and again. "Ready or not, here I come." Brooklyn glanced outside. A thin line of light flashed before his eyes. "Found you lightning! I won!"

The room was silent.

Brooklyn had a feeling it knew he had lost too.

X

Lightning struck twice.

Mom had been wrong. Mom was often wrong.

He hadn't learned any of those things until he was twice the age he had been back when he always believed. In his mom. In Zeus. In lightning.

"Brook sweetie, can you get the first aid kit?"

He looked at his mom blankly. There were tear stains on her face. Brooklyn could easily imagine the drip, drip, drip of her tears as they hit the ground. He had witnessed them far too many times.

"Sure Mom." He spoke calmly. He had to. Mom was anything but calm right now.

"Such a good boy."

Brooklyn froze. Dad called him "boy". He disliked his Dad and therefore disliked being addressed as "boy". He frowned. Brooklyn's mom noticed her error once the room had become quiet. She covered her mouth. There was an apologetic expression on her features.

"It's okay Mom. I'm not angry."

He _was_ angry. He was always angry. At his dad. At Zeus. At thunder. His rage had become like the lightning that had once been so comforting to him.

It wasn't anymore.

Lightning caused fear. Brooklyn was angry at his fearfulness, and fearful of his anger.

"Your mother asked you to get her a first aid kit. Stop standing there like the moron you are. Fetch it boy."

Brooklyn looked up. Dad looked down. Mom looked away all together.

"Yeah, okay." There was a crooked smile on his face. Brooklyn hoped his dad could see the storm brewing in his eyes.

There was a good chance he had. Dad shoved him out of the room. He hit the wall hard, and sunk downward.

"You go far too easy on him."

Brooklyn was supposed to get the first aid kit. He stayed where he was.

"I…He's still just a child."

His age was that of a child's. But he wasn't a child anymore. Mom knew that.

"Hasn't been a child for years. When was the last time he played that stupid game with you? You know, the completely idiotic one where he counted backward from ten, and you hid."

His mom's backside had impacted with the wall. To Brooklyn it sounded like a thunderous boom. She was shaking. He didn't have to look to know she was shaking.

"Hide…Hide 'n go seek," Mom squeaked out.

Brooklyn stared at the rug beneath him. His fingers skimmed over the surface. Intricate, ornate patterns were woven together in a mass of color. It was impossible to tell where one stopped and another started. But he would try to decipher the code and unravel all of its mysteries. He would attempt to understand the way things around him worked. For Mom's sake, he would make sense of it.

"Mmm…That's right. You two had such fun playing that endlessly agitating game. And yet you never invited me. Kind of rude, don't you think?" Dad paused as though he expected an answer. Brooklyn was positive he didn't. "To make it up to me, you should play it with me now. I count backward from ten. You hide. I seek."

The patterns he knelt on blurred further together before becoming completely obscured by the darkness of the hallway. Rays of sunshine were streaming in from a window nearby him. It didn't matter. It still felt like nighttime.

"I won't play that game with you. I refuse."

Brooklyn's eyes followed the stray beams of light to their source. He looked outside. No clouds in the sky. Father's bitter laughter at Mom was icy but the temperature outside was likely to be warm. Perfect hide 'n seek weather.

"You have ten seconds. I suggest you hide."

Father's voice was laced with venom. It caught Brooklyn's attention instantly. His head snapped forward. He stared blankly.

"Ten."

His mom was begging his dad not to do this.

"Nine."

She started crying, probably hunched over and shaking violently.

"Eight."

Brooklyn pretended not to care about what happened.

"Seven."

He immersed himself into the abstract patterns.

"Six."

Mom's speech was quickly becoming indecipherable.

"Five."

She paced. The floorboards creaked.

"Four."

Brooklyn raised his head.

"Three."

He did care.

"Two."

Too late.

"One."

Boom.

"Zero."

Patiently, he waited for the thunder to pass. He was feeling anything but patient.

Finally, his father walked out. He smiled crookedly. Brooklyn could see a storm in his eyes. "Better get that first aid kit…Boy."

Brooklyn made a fist and then lowered it. He wouldn't be baited. He would hold his lightning back for as long as he could. There would be no stopping it someday. He was well aware of that fact.

Lightning had an agenda all its own.

XX

Lightning struck twice.

But thunder was relentless.

Father had more than demonstrated that.

His tirades had gotten worse. It had reached the point where he didn't need a reason to be angry. He just would be and that would be good enough for him. Other than a few shoves, Brooklyn had stayed out of the eye of the storm. Mom hadn't been as nearly as fortunate.

"He's old enough to fend for himself. I want him out of here."

His presence was a burden to Father. Brooklyn was glad. His father deserved no easy breaks. He wished the man were struck by lightning.

"It's dangerous out there," Mom stressed.

Brooklyn had to stifle a laugh. The outside was dangerous, huh? Was she blind to how toxic the inside had become?

"Should I care?"

"He's your son!"

Mom sounded desperate. Brooklyn couldn't understand why. She should have known by now her effort would get her nowhere. Her behavior was becoming disgusting. She was becoming disgusting.

For Mom's sake, he would put a stop to this conversation.

"Don't remind me," Brooklyn stated cruelly.

Mom and Father spun around. Mom looked horrified. Father looked enraged. Brooklyn looked extremely calm. He was anything but calm. He took two steps forward after he had made his bold statement. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest. His gaze was locked with Father's.

"Don't ever disrespect me child."

Brooklyn let out a cold laugh. It made him wonder if it was warm outside.

"Haven't been a child for years, Daddy. But apparently, you're still one. Overheard you playing hide 'n seek with Mom the other day. What, no one at the park would play tag with you or something?"

Brooklyn kept laughing. He found what he was saying very amusing. Father didn't. He wasn't laughing. He glared instead.

"It seems as though I just got a volunteer for a game of tag. I'll count backward from ten, and when I finish…I'll come get you."

A shiver of disgust ran down Brooklyn's spine. Mom looked disgusted too. She lowered her head. She would do nothing to help her son. There was nothing she could do.

"Oh yeah, because that's the best way to get your son to respect you."

He was digging a hole for himself. Shoveling deeper and throwing the dirt in his father's face every time he spoke. Father was already stained from his deeds. But he wouldn't stand for Brooklyn getting him any filthier. Father's body stiffened. He took a single step forward.

Brooklyn didn't bother to back away.

"You will respect me Brooklyn. Whether I decide to keep you here, or throw you out you will learn respect."

Brooklyn frowned. Father wasn't backing away either.

"Just start the countdown Dad."

Mom was visibly distressed. She had already backed away.

"Fine. You asked for this."

He had never asked for any of this.

"Go on then."

He got it anyway.

"Ten."

"It's impossible for me to respect you anymore. You were never worthy of admiration to begin with. I've listened to you year after year saying how I disgust you. Now's my turn. I refuse to continue to live in fear of such a sorry excuse for a father. You sicken me. I won't pretend to tolerate you any longer. I'm ashamed to be related to you. The way you treat Mom is appalling. You are appalling."

Brooklyn glared at Father. Father glanced over at Mom. Mom looked away. That's all she ever did, really.

"Nine."

"Don't ignore me. You've always ignored me. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of you, of this house, of the restrictions. Kick me out. You'd be doing me a favor. I don't need this. I don't need you. I'd be better off without you."

Father took another step toward him. His arms were crossed over his chest. He gazed down at Brooklyn as though his son were beneath him. Brooklyn knew better. His father was the inferior one.

"Eight."

"Afraid to acknowledge the truth? Mom and I don't need you. We never did. Things are always better when you aren't around. Mom actually smiles. I can breathe easy. I shouldn't be the one leaving. It should be you."

The words that had abandoned him for so long were flowing from his mouth. He felt empowered. He couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop.

"Seven."

"I've always craved a father I could rely on. One I can let my guard down in front of. I just want a normal family. We could have been a normal family. Do you hear me? I want you to hear me for once. You never hear me."

Brooklyn's voice shook almost as much as his body did. His eye contact with his father was starting to break. So was his resolve.

"Six."

"Even if you did hear me, you wouldn't care. You would turn your back like you always do. Pretending won't change anything. It won't undo the fact I'm your son. It won't change the abuses you're guilty of. It won't fix my childhood."

Father had stopped walking. He stood perfectly still. He watched. He waited. His numbers were said sharply, powerfully. Father commanded the respect he didn't deserve. That's all he ever did, really.

"Five."

"I want it back. I want the years you've ruined back. Bring my happy carefree mother back to me. Stop ignoring what's right in front of you. You've failed as a father and as a person."

They had all failed. Mom had failed to walk out on Father. Brooklyn had failed to inform an adult of what was happening. The outside world had failed to notice the bruises his mom carried around. The ones on her body. The ones on her mind. The ones in her heart.

"Four."

"I used to wonder why you did what you do. It was once inconceivable to me that any father would act the way you do. I wasted a lot of time trying to come up with excuses for you. I think I finally understand now."

Father was doing nothing to acknowledge him beyond staring. His body language was hard and explosive like lightning thrown across the sky. It scared Brooklyn. He wondered if Zeus knew that. He wondered if Zeus even cared.

"Three."

"You don't care right? You never did. You never will."

Did anyone really care? Father didn't. Mother didn't. Brooklyn didn't. Not anymore, anyway.

"Two."

"Are you listening? Don't ignore me."

Brooklyn couldn't blame his father for not listening. He wasn't. He was speaking. He tried to clutch onto something to keep himself sane. He was anything but sane.

"One."

"Answer me!"

Brooklyn was the one to step forward this time. He locked gazes with Father. Mom sobbed. Her tears hit the ground. Pitter. Patter. Splat. Brooklyn empathized with her. His heart was making the same sounds.

"Zero."

His father answered without speaking. Ready or not, here he came. Tag – Brooklyn was it.

He stood there and took it.

That's all he ever did, really.

XX

Lightning struck more than twice.

Brooklyn had read that fact online somewhere. It had disproved what he had known and accepted to be the truth. He wished being wrong surprised him.

"Did it hurt a lot?"

It didn't. By now, almost all of his whimsical childhood notions had been abandoned.

"Does it matter?"

"It matters to me."

He didn't believe her. Mother sat down next to him. Her hand rested on top of his.

"You should have done something."

He yanked his fingers away from hers. Mother looked hurt. He couldn't bring himself to care.

"I know."

She gripped his hand again and held on tightly. Brooklyn didn't bother to correct her this time.

"Good."

With little hesitation, Brooklyn began to leave. With little regard for anyone else, his father began to enter. Brooklyn waited to see what Mother would do.

"Cover that disgusting mark on your face up. No one wants to see it."

Mother did nothing.

Brooklyn wished being right surprised him.

"Then you shouldn't have given it to me. What's the matter, did this mark actually cause you to feel the slightest bit of remorse?"

It didn't.

Father's eyes narrowed dangerously. Brooklyn stood his ground.

"You're out of line, boy."

Crack. Brooklyn held his head. He could see streaks of light flashing in his mind. They were assaulting something fragile inside him.

"If you call me 'boy' one more time…"

Boom. He couldn't help but wonder if that something was his heart.

"Oh? Is that a threat _boy_?"

Brooklyn was shaking. So was Mother. He took a single step forward. She took several back.

"Yeah. Guess it is…old man."

Brooklyn gave a chill laugh. He didn't think about hide 'n go seek weather.

He didn't think of thunder either. Not even as the first punch crashed into his cheek.

"Fight back child. If you have a spine, you'll hit back."

Mother released a terrified wail. Brooklyn's fingers clenched. His nails sunk into his palm. The pain he felt meant nothing.

"No! Brooklyn, don't. Please…Just…Just ignore your father. He doesn't know what he's saying! He-"

Zero.

His mother tried to get through to him. She screamed and howled for him to stop at the top of her lungs. Brooklyn couldn't hear her. The thunderous roar of rage was drowning her out. He could hear a downpour of rain – pitter, patter, splat. There was a harsh crack and a heavy boom. Lightning rained down upon his father. Years of rage tumbled from his fists effortlessly. He pounded his worries away into nothing.

Brooklyn knew this outcome had been inevitable. Mother had never had a chance of stopping it. Now that it had come, the results were there to stay. Brooklyn's lightning and Father's thunder had created a storm.

Storms listened to no one.

"You might want to consider getting the first aid kit."

Brooklyn's chest heaved. His eyes were focused on a motionless body on the ground. It was splattered with bits of red that reminded Brooklyn of blood colored raindrops. Father had made the mistake of forgetting his slicker.

"Brooklyn…You didn't…"

The skies were clearing. It didn't matter. Mother still needed an umbrella. She dared to uncover her face. Brooklyn was walking away from her. She reached out.

"I did."

He slipped right through her fingers. Her eyes misted over.

"I want you back Brooklyn."

Brooklyn stopped walking. He turned slowly on his heel to face his mother. The part of him still clinging to reality desperately wanted to comfort her. He tried.

"You can't control me Mother. No one can."

He failed.

"I won't lose you Brooklyn."

Mother's voice sounded strong and steady. It only served to further highlight how feeble she really was.

"You'll be wrong. You're always wrong."

Brooklyn left. The room was silent.

It knew Mother had lost Brooklyn too.

XXX

Lightning struck more than twice.

So had Brooklyn.

He didn't know what to think of his actions. Of lightning. Of Zeus. Of the woman who had given birth to him. Of the stranger who had caused the bruises on his face. Brooklyn's fingertips brushed against his sore cheek. Those wounds mattered little to him.

They were nothing compared to the ones in his mind and on his heart.

"Mommy! Take me home soon! I wanna go home."

Brooklyn scanned the area. Happy families were scattered along slowly darkening streets. Nurturing Mommies, supportive Daddies, and gleeful children were everywhere. Nothing looked remotely familiar to him. He was thankful for that. He had walked far enough away from his personal hell. Despite that, he continued to move forward.

Brooklyn couldn't afford to look back.

"In a moment sweetheart. I just want to cherish this a while longer."

The sky made a startling bang. Brooklyn knew that sound well. A storm was about to erupt. He vaguely wondered what any mommy had to "cherish" when she had such a whiny and disobedient child.

"But I scared! Lightning'll hit us and cause a real big booboo!"

Brooklyn shut his eyes. Another memorable noise rushed through his ears. He welcomed it – even the "splat" at the end. The raindrops that ran over his body washed away his shame.

He peeked over at the small boy nearby him who was huddled against his mommy. He clearly didn't feel the same way Brooklyn did. He was nothing like Brooklyn. Not anymore. Perhaps not ever.

"Shhh, it's okay. Mommy loves you. We'll get you home. Don't be afraid."

The child relaxed considerably. Brooklyn became tenser.

"Me love you too Mommy!"

Brooklyn stopped walking. The child ended up bumping into him. Lightning bathed the sky in a faint glow. The boy's wail of fear pierced Brooklyn to the core. He looked down. The youth glanced up. Brooklyn spoke warmly.

"It'll be okay. The lightning will go away, and everything will be better. Listen to your mommy. She's right. She always is."

The child's lower lip trembled. So did Brooklyn's heart.

"But the lightning-"

The little boy began to moan out his agony. His voice grated on Brooklyn's nerves.

He never had to hear the rest of the child's sentence. The mommy silently guided her son away from Brooklyn. She was frowning at him as she walked away. She mumbled something about not talking to strangers.

She didn't faze him. Brooklyn called out one last thing. It was more for his own sake than that of either of the people walking away from him.

"Lightning won't strike when your mommy is there to keep you safe."

Brooklyn received no reply. He wasn't surprised. What he had said was a meaningless lie.

Lightning always struck more than twice.

XXX


End file.
